


twenty flavors (birthday cake remix)

by simplyprologue



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: All Rachel's Fault, Birthday Sex, F/M, Rachel do you understand how much smut I've gifted you at this point?, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyprologue/pseuds/simplyprologue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all, being the birthday boy does have its privileges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	twenty flavors (birthday cake remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PercySnail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PercySnail/gifts).



> **A/N:** Rachel told me to. Also, author's warning, one should not in real life allow sugary substances such as ice cream and icing near or in the vagina, because that is a yeast infection waiting to happen, and if this was real life instead of fanfiction Mac probably would have asked Will to wash his hands first. 
> 
> Post S2? It started because I made [this](http://ofhouseadama.tumblr.com/post/65096056626) #textfromlastnewsnight. 
> 
> God dammit, Rachel.

They're both more than a little drunk, not that he doesn't really doubt that they wouldn’t have done this sober, just maybe _not_ on the nice sheets. In other words, MacKenzie can't bake for shit and his birthday is in the middle of August, which is how they've wound up diagonal on the bed with Mac arching up under him while he eats ice cream cake off her chest.

The apartment is ice cold, the way Mac likes it, but her skin is hot and sticky and Will licks at the flesh stretched thin over her breastbone and makes a fucking mess of himself getting back to her nipple, rolling the pointed bud between his teeth before sucking more of her breast into his mouth, scraping ice cream off her skin and into his mouth. She keens, a desperate, high noise that Will loves, and he bites down on the curve of her breast, where her shirt will cover but where he’ll see, marking her because she’ll let him just like she let him back her up against the kitchen counter and grab the sides of the low v-neck she had worn out grocery shopping and tear the shirt in half.

(After all, being the birthday boy _does_ have its privileges.)

MacKenzie’s legs come around his torso and she curls her toes into waistband of his boxers, pushing them down his legs and she’s laughing and god he loves the sound of that, too, and he wipes a hand off on the sheets he’s already written off with her shirt (and bra, to be honest, he hadn’t _exactly_ waited for her to take it off before enthusiastically taking her up on her suggestion that he could have his cake and eat it off her, too) and slides his hand under the scrap of lace she’d donned for the occasion. (His birthday. Not this particular manifestation of the cake eating tradition.) And rubs his fingers over her clit, until she’s panting his name on a constant high note, pumps two fingers into her, coaxing wetness from her with his fingers curled just so.

Fingers clenched into his hair, Mac holds his head to her chest while he sends her almost ruthlessly into climax, because he can and because he wants to, likes to see her come violently undone beneath him. Her face is hopelessly flushed, red and sweaty, bangs lacquered to her forehead as her legs begin to shake where they’re pressed into the sides of his thighs, and Will peers up at her over the rise of her breasts, lips still wrapped around a nipple, the sweetness of the ice cream still on his tongue.

He kicks off his boxers from where Mac has pushed them to his calves, pressing his erection into the side of her hip as his lips trail up her breastbone, chasing chocolate ice cream and blue icing (which had, approximately twenty minutes previous, spelled out “Happy Birthday Billy!” in a cheery commercial script) and MacKenzie’s heaving gasps.

Will waits until she slides her hands down his back to curl her fingernails into his ass, flexing her hips in a frenzy into his hand, and then pins her hips to the mattress with a forearm, bites at that spot, the tendon where her neck turns into her shoulder (it’ll leave a mark, but she’s Mrs. McAvoy now and honestly, the staff can fucking deal, it’s not like they’ve never seen a hickey before and it’s not like _she_ is the one on camera) and makes her scream.

Pumping his fingers into her lazily while he waits for her to come down, he finishes sucking and eating the remnants of ice cream cake off her tits--which are, in Will’s opinion, a fucking gift from God in and of themselves--until MacKenzie gives him _that_ satisfied smile, the one that feels like a gold star and big red bow all in one, and pulls him up to slant her mouth against his, lets him suck her tongue into his mouth.

“You taste good,” she giggles, when they come up for air, swinging a leg over his waist and flipping him onto his back. 


End file.
